Page 1 of Revere

1

I WON’T TELL IF YOU DON’T

PATIENCE

My family spoiledme growing up.

Private jets. Designer purses. Staff on hand to bring me anything and everything I could ever want.

As I sit in the overcrowded airport, preparing to get on an even more crowded plane, I’m reminded of why I’ve continued to put up with my parents’ bullshit for so long. One of the perks of coming from the richest family in Bristal is that I’ve been born and raised with luxury and space.

If only that didn’t come at such a steep price.

Amassing money and power like my family has through the generations requires a certain amount of soul grating. Offerings at altars without knowing exactly how deep the cost will run. Nothing is too sacred to risk when you’re a Lancaster. Certainly not family. Much less love.

My parents always saw my brother and me as tools. As another way to build the bricks of their empire. The older Alex and I got, the more that was expected of us until he ended up in a psychiatric ward, and I ended up here. Alone.

I spent years taking bites of the apple, hoping someday I’d find Eden. I should have known, deep down, paradise is a pretty picture painted over a tainted landscape.

At least now I’ve got out. Or I’m trying to.

My parents cut me off when I accepted this summer internship program in LA. It was the final straw after they barely allowed me to enroll in college two years ago.

God forbid a girl have dreams that extend past the man in her life. In my mother’s eyes, a woman’s brain is put to better use pulling the strings in the family, while her husband works his way up the political food chain, than chasing a career of her own.

I refuse to be that—to beher.

I’ll never accept being some rich, influential asshole’s trophy wife.

The line snakes tighter, and I’m thankful Kole upgraded our tickets to first class. There’s slightly more room than there is in the primary boarding line, even if we’re cramped in a corner. At least, on the plane, I’ll only be sharing a row with one other person, limiting the number of witnesses when I inevitably have a panic attack at takeoff.

I’ve never been good at flying, and it got worse after my father took Alex and me to New York when we were in high school. The plane hit turbulence, and when it dipped, I swore we were plummeting. Just thinking about it, I feel that empty whoosh in my stomach.

The line moves again, and someone pushes past, sending me flying against the man in front of me.

“Sorry,” I grumble.

It’s not the man’s fault I ran into him, so I try not to let my mood bleed into my tone. But I’ve never been good at faking anything for the sake of others.

Something Mom chastised me for any chance she got.

She meant to soften me under enough pressure. But like the disappointment I’ve always been to her, her expectations only sharpened my tongue.

The man I slammed into turns with a forced smile. Annoyance washes his expression until he catches my gaze, and his eyes linger. They sweep down, roaming too brazenly for my liking, so I tug at my long-sleeve shirt, which is too warm for the middle of summer.

No matter how many layers I wear, it never feels like enough. And even if this man can’t see through them, it feels like he does.

“Don’t worry about it.” His grin lifts the mole above his lip.

His smile isn’t kind; it’s predatory in a way that’s familiar after being raised in a shark tank. Men looking at what they shouldn’t. Seeing women as pawns in their games. Or worse, disposable and useless.

I turn away before the urge to rake my freshly manicured nails across his face becomes too strong. But all that does is put me face-to-face with my best friend, cradled in the arms of a man who represents everything that has gone wrong in my life.

Kole Christiansen.

The moment my roommate started dating a member of Sigma House, I should have known things were about to go to hell.

I’m not naive. I knew attending Briar Academy would put me on the same grounds as Sigma House. The fraternity my father helps run, and the one that sent Alex to a psychiatric ward when he failed an initiation trial. But I did my best to live in a bubble and avoid them.